


Define Stalking

by morphenomenal



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Denial, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Unintentional Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphenomenal/pseuds/morphenomenal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Noiz has randomly decided to avoid Koujaku for several days, Koujaku wonders what the hell he did, and then proceeds to <i> not </i> worry. Through all of his <i> not </i> worrying, he somehow forgets that his birthday is coming up.</p><p>What a loser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Define Stalking

**Author's Note:**

> Happy really, really extremely belated birthday, Koujaku! Fuuuuuuudge, I really wanted this done earlier but I've done all I can and it's super late and I just want to get this posted. 
> 
> This is technically a sort of aftermath or the sort of sequel to [The Late Shift.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1528319/chapters/3233279) If you haven't read it, I don't really think you really have to in order to read this story (but I also could be wrong so... sorry if there is any confusion. I'm horrible with these things.).

Opening the window is how Koujaku begins his mornings.

After yanking the blinds and moving the curtains, Koujaku opens the window up halfway. He relishes the cool morning breeze and welcomes the sunlight brightening his room. Unfortunately, an annoyed groan distracts Koujaku, forcing him away from such a beautiful morning. A messy blond head of hair is mostly covered by sheets. Koujaku rests onto the window frame, tucking his chin onto his hand. He should be admiring the sight outside, his typical setting for another typical day in Midorijima. Instead, he’s admiring what he can see of the blond’s obvious bedhead.

The wrinkled sheets yank up and over what hair is still visible. “Close the fucking window,” his bed rumbles gruffly. “It’s too fucking early.”

“It’s eight o’clock,” Koujaku informs the disgruntled lump in his bed. “Wake up.”

“Fuck you.”

Koujaku snorts. “No thanks.”

Left without a reply, Koujaku leaves the window and promptly removes the sheets. Letting out a disgruntled whine, Noiz covers his face from the malevolent sun and his hand blindly reaches out for cover. Next, Koujaku removes the bedding (it’s time to wash them anyway) with Noiz still stretched over the bed. The mattress is completely bare but it doesn’t get Noiz off. He rolls onto his stomach, groaning obnoxiously, and dives for the safety of a pillow.

“Look how beautiful it is outside. That’s the world telling you to go out and enjoy life.”

Noiz’s shoulders shake with a pompous laugh. He turns his head, his cheek bunching against the pillowcase. “I don’t know how you old folk do it, but going outside is _not_ how I enjoy myself. Things have changed. No one _likes_ going outside.”

“Get up, shithead.”

“Okay,” Noiz says. “I’ll get up.”

“Damn right you will.”

“But I’m going to need some incentive,” Noiz shifts onto his side, showcasing his crotch and the prominent line in his boxers. He flickers his gaze from his crotch to Koujaku’s eyes – one, two, three times. Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Noiz’s lips stretch into a cocky grin. “Have I mastered the art of subtlety yet?”

“Like I said,” Koujaku starts, shoving all his pillows off the bed. “Get up, shithead.”

Having nothing left for cover, Noiz forces his body upright and simply shoots Koujaku a dirty look. “Just go fuck the sun,” he grumbles, sluggishly walking over to the bathroom. “I bet that’s why you love the mornings so damn much.”

“That… that doesn’t even make any sense.”

“ _You_ don’t make sense.”

Unbelievable.

The door slams and Koujaku finds himself back at the window.

Today’s going to be a good day.

* * *

Koujaku’s not much of a coffee person, but he can appreciate the nice brew the _Cappuccino Princess_ has today. Someone’s definitely made a good batch of coffee (the culprit is definitely Mink, but he’s not letting _anyone_ know how he likes Mink’s coffee. Never.). It smells so good he almost considers buying himself a cup, though he’d probably just smell the coffee rather than drink it.

In the last couple of months, the shop’s been steadily gaining a fair amount of customers. It isn’t much of a business increase, the _Cappuccino Princess_ can’t compare to commercial coffee shops. They’re gradually making a name for themselves and they have enough patrons to keep them on their toes. Koujaku recognizes some of his clients. It seems to be a popular trend for his clientele to go to the shop after stopping at his salon (it also helps that he mentions the place every so often). His clients spot him quickly, they eagerly invite him over, but he politely declines the invitation.

He’s here for a reason.

Checking the time, Koujaku notes that he’s a few minutes early for his _not_ lunch date with Noiz. Just a regular lunch between two dudes who frequently slept together. Why was that such a hard concept to get? Since these strictly regular lunches were a regular occurrence, Koujaku knew what to expect. Clear would’ve swooped in by now, spouting his unnecessary comments but none of them came. Most of the staff is absent. This _is_ Noiz’s shift, and unless he had said something to him, the brat is supposed to be here.

The only worker present is Aoba. “Are you looking for someone, hippo?” he asks, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Yo, Aoba,” Koujaku says, walking over to the counter.

“Avoiding the question?” Aoba shakes his head. He taps his pencil on his notepad. “What can I get for you?”

“Nothing for me.”

“What are you doing here then? This _is_ a coffee shop, you know.”

Crossing his arms on the counter, Koujaku leans forward with a grin. “I’m well aware of that,” he chuckles. “Where is everybody?”

“They’re around here somewhere,” Aoba says, twirling his pencil. “The shop gets so busy nowadays. We have to prepare ourselves for the worst.”

Koujaku looks over the vicinity. There are still plenty of empty tables left, but the shop is much livelier than he’s seen it in months. “It’s good that more customers are coming by.”

“It’s _very_ good,” Aoba beams. “It was only a matter of time before everyone recognized the amazingness of the _Cappuccino Princess_. Starbucks better watch out.”

“I don’t think they have much to worry about,” he teases good-naturedly.

“We’re getting there, Koujaku. Everyone had to start from the bottom.”

To think he used to have trouble striking up a conversation with Aoba. Here he is now talking to Aoba like they’ve known each other for several long years. He’s at ease around Aoba now, not that he wasn’t ever _not_ at ease with Aoba. It’s not like he had a little school girl crush on him. If anything, it was a genuine attraction to form a bond of epic friendship. And they’re friendship is epic. It’s good and awesome and just what he’s always needed.

Koujaku checks the clock on the wall. The brat’s been gone for over twelve minutes. Not that he’s been keeping track of Noiz’s unexplained absence. Looking at the counter, Koujaku counts how much change is in the tip jar.

There’s about eight dollars. Plus change.

“So,” Koujaku starts casually. “Where is he?”

“He?” Aoba feigns confusion, tilting his head. “I thought you weren’t here for someone. If you were, you would’ve said something when I asked before.”

“You _know_ who I’m looking for. Come on, Aoba, do we really –”

“I don’t know anyone named by ‘He’. You’re going to have to give me a little more than that.”

Koujaku sighs. “Where’s Noiz?”

“Already missing your boyfriend?”

“No, Aoba, just. No.”

“I think the answer you’re looking for is _yes_.”

“Let’s not do this,” Koujaku lets out another sigh. “Can’t you just tell me where he is?”

The shop’s chime goes off as Aoba answers. A small group of chattering women file inside and, of course, they’re more of his clients. Koujaku waves at them, while he moves out of the way to let Aoba get to work.

“I’ll just look for him myself.”

“W-wait, don’t go yet!” Aoba protests. “Don’t you want to talk for a little longer? I was just about to tell you something important.”

“You’re busy,” Koujaku says. “We can always talk later.”

“Or we can talk now!”

“Aoba, you have a job to do!” Aoba’s odd behavior isn’t very . . . professional. Koujaku leaves for the back. The brat has to be around here somewhere.

In his _not_ pursuit of finding Noiz, Koujaku strolls past Sei’s office which is open. From what little Koujaku knows about Sei, catching him on his tablet is a common occurrence. According to Aoba, his brother ceases to properly function without it. Busy with work, it wouldn’t be wise to bother Sei, so Koujaku continues onwards. If Noiz isn’t anywhere else, he _had_ to be in the alleyway behind the shop.

“Koujaku?”

Sei’s in the hall and waving Koujaku over. He finds that he can’t decline Sei’s offer, not when he has on such a kind smile. Sitting in Sei’s office, Koujaku feels very out of place. Everything is so _colorful_ and reminds Koujaku of a little girl’s room or, well, a _princess’_ room. That would explain the shop’s title, it is Sei’s café after all, but not the last half. Were cappuccinos Sei’s favorite caffeinated drink?

Sei swipes a finger across his tablet, worrying his bottom lip. When he finishes up, Sei lowers it, and Koujaku’s lips automatically pull into a smile. He’s spent a lot more time with everyone at the shop (Mink shockingly included), but he hasn’t talked very often with Sei. Usually, he’s in his office, which is to be expected, being an owner of a small business was tough – he should know. From the few conversations they’ve had, Sei is a wonderful person; he’s a delight to talk to, a nice listener, and a definitive member of the Seragaki family. There’s an inexplicable urger to protect Sei, though Koujaku isn’t sure what he’s protecting him from . . . probably from Noiz being an idiot.

Why didn’t he notice the obvious relation between Sei and Aoba before? He’s sure the brat’s to blame for that. Shit. He _should_ be looking for Noiz.

“I’m sorry,” Koujaku says. “I’d like to continue this but I need to – I’m looking for Noiz.”

“Eager to find him, I see,” Sei teases lightly.

“Not really,” Koujaku replies, truly grateful Sei hadn’t used the dreaded B word. “He gets irritating when he’s hungry. I don’t wish that wrath on any of you.”

“I’m sure he can wait. He’s a big boy,” Sei assures him unsuccessfully. “You know, there’s something I noticed Koujaku. Since you’ve gotten into a relationship with Noiz, we still haven’t talked very often. We should change that.”

Was every Seragaki that determined to get admittance on something not true?

“It’s not, _we’re_ not,” Koujaku sputters inelegantly, if there was even a way to sputter elegantly. He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry. We can talk sometime later!”

Despite Sei’s insistence, Koujaku power walks to the door at the end of the hall. Right away, he can hear the brat talking to someone incredibly bubbly. Clear and Noiz are huddled next to the dumpster, where Noiz belongs, gazing down at a tablet together. Clear’s giddily hopping up and down, grabbing onto Noiz’s shoulder (the brat glances at his hand, but doesn’t immediately shrug it off) and pointing at something on the screen. Noiz used to be distant with Clear, he kept himself from getting close to anyone, except Mink but _whatever_. The cinnamon bastard wasn’t even here.

Koujaku calls out to them, quickly gaining their attention on him. As he walks over, Noiz hides the tablet behind his back. The slight smile he had on falls into a scowl. Clear welcomes him cheerfully.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“Lunch, you idiot.”

“Oh,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m not hungry. You can go.”

Koujaku is about to protest but Clear ushers him back into the shop. Koujaku can’t help but feel like he missed something just now.

* * *

He thought he was being paranoid.

But he wasn’t.

It’s been going on longer than a day.

Something’s going on here. Noiz is avoiding him. But why would he avoid him? He hasn’t done anything that warranted such treatment. The last time they argued was sometime last week. It was over something stupid – they had so many arguments it was hard to keep track of the latest annoyances – about leaving dirty socks in the fridge. But lately Koujaku notices they’ve been arguing less frequently. Sure, they yammered and pushed each other’s buttons, but some of the things Noiz does is so random, so out there, that he has a hunch he does this type of shit to keep whatever this is into progressing into something else.

But even without heated quarrels, the brat hasn’t been acting like himself. He’s made less annoying comments, less insults, less _everything_. He’s never missed Noiz’s searing sarcasm.

Eventually, the brat stops sleeping in his bed. He falls asleep on the couch and then he just stops coming back to his place altogether. The spare key he gave him is left on the table. Koujaku assumes he’s forgotten it. Noiz would come back to get it. Or break in.

He doesn’t come back.

Koujaku waits for Noiz.

He passes out and wakes up alone, he’s gotten so used to waking next to a dumb kid, that he hates not seeing his stupid sleeping face the first thing. He’s too exhausted to work, both emotionally and physically, but he continues going to the salon at an earlier hour.

What’s that brat doing? Had he finally gotten tired of him? All age jokes aside, Noiz was still young. Still had long ways to go in school and college students were finicky. Although Noiz is a prick, Koujaku didn’t miss the way an occasional customer would size him up with interest.

Suffice to say, Koujaku's sleep schedule becomes a bit of a mess.

* * *

After classes, Noiz swings over to the arcade.

He’s fast with his hands, the fucker is always moving quickly, as he twists and turns knobs and mashes buttons. He plays a few games, beats them in an impressive amount of time. However, if you think about it, it shows how much time he’s spent playing games – it’s kind of more sad than impressive to Koujaku.

On his way out, Noiz nods at a middle aged man, then the brat’s breezing down the street. His eyes are downcast, his attention on his phone. Noiz doesn’t move, or look away from his phone, and collides with people without uttering an apology or doesn’t move out of anyone’s way. What an asshole. Noiz’s next stop is at a bar. It’s the very same bar they went to when they first – Koujaku speeds up slightly, slipping into the bar after him.

The brat is at the bar, he’s shifting on the bar stool, twisting the seat side-to-side. He’s chatting with Mizuki. From where he’s watching, it looks like they’re having a pretty decent chat going on. Since when were Noiz and Mizuki talking to each other? When were they even on speaking terms? Mizuki laughs; the sound lost in the mess of loud music, and playfully shoves at Noiz’s shoulder.

_What the hell?_

Noiz doesn’t stay here very long. He takes a pit stop at a convenience store and exits with a bag of chips to snack on. His following destination is at several clothes stores. Noiz doesn’t try anything on; he just looks over at clothes, while thoughtfully nibbling on potatoes chips. Most of what he looks at is suits – someone as trashy as Noiz staring at suits? Koujaku couldn’t think of any way to make sense of that. What did the brat need a suit for?

Koujaku parts from Noiz when he goes to the coffee shop. Today, Noiz is working a little later. He isn’t on the late shift tonight, so he should be home in time for dinner. At this point, he would go to his salon, but he’d decided to take the day off without telling Noiz.

With nothing else to do, Koujaku walks back home. He might as well get everything ready. It isn’t until Koujaku’s in the middle of chopping an abnormally large carrot that he realizes what he’s done.

He _stalked_ him.

* * *

“Okay, I’m not proud of this but I don’t know who else to turn to,” Koujaku loosens his iron grip on his jacket, rolls his sleeves down to his wrists, and jams his hands in his pockets. “I’m going crazy. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I can’t cook without almost burning down the kitchen! I can’t do _anything!_ ”

He’ll look back on this later, after all’s said and done, and avoid going over to this area for a few days. He could’ve opened up with a million better things to say, yet he decided to bluntly info dump his problems.

Taking a deep breath, Koujaku glares at the ground. “You’re like best friends with Noiz. Or you aren’t. Whatever you guys are, you two _talk_ and don’t tell me you don’t. I _see_ you guys all the time, huddling together like you don’t think I can see but I do. I mean, he says your name in bed,” he’s rambling. He can’t stop moving his mouth, spewing out all this bullshit. Oh no, he _can’t_ stop. “Not when we’re doing anything just – don’t distract me! You two definitely got something going on and I haven’t said anything about it.”

“So,” he hisses. “ _So,_ tell me what’s going on.”

Koujaku’s jaw tightens; he kicks at nothing, and lifts his gaze off the ground for the stare down. Mink’s taller than him by a measly inch, but he subconsciously shifts his footing, refrains from standing on his tiptoes. A one inch difference in height wouldn’t make this a challenge. Mink glooms down at Koujaku, a firm scowl and an eyebrow slightly quirked. Did this guy ever smile?

He expects a door slam in his face and he’d gladly welcome it. What’s he doing here? Standing at Mink’s door, his tail dangling between his legs, because there’s no one else he can turn to. It’s not only Noiz who’s behaving so strangely. So is everyone else. Even Tae seemed to be hiding something from him. Mink’s the only one who hasn’t changed. His unexpressive face stares impassively at him, his golden eyes gazing at him unblinkingly that Koujaku feels as though he’s gotten into a staring contest.

Mink rolls his eyes so hard they might roll back into his head. He squares his shoulders, as he sighs, and turns on his heels, leaving Koujaku alone by the door. Koujaku takes one step forward, looking into Mink’s apartment. It’s not very roomy, but Mink seems to be at home just fine. He doesn’t know what makes the place so attractive that Noiz has to constantly visit. He had _two_ bathrooms while Mink might as well be shitting on the floor.

Mink beckons him forward, Koujaku gapes for a moment, stumbling forward and grateful Mink hasn’t seen that.

Incense is lit – the aroma’s strong, unfamiliar, but pleasant. Koujaku’s unease loosens from his body, he falls back onto the door, and eyes a fist sized dent on the wall. That didn’t look good.

Mink shuffles across the room, heading into the small corner that’s supposedly a kitchen. He ruffles through the cabinets, taking out a kettle, and fills it up before placing it on the stove.

Then, he sits down at his rickety table, lights up a cigarette, and parts his lips just so to allow the smoke to billow out his mouth. “What’s the problem, Red?”

Koujaku could _really_ use a smoke. He pats down his pockets, searching for his own packet, only to remember he’d run out last night. Damn it. The incense tickles his nostrils, relaxes his irritation, and somehow lures him into the seat opposite Mink. Clasping his hands on his lap, Koujaku twiddles his thumbs as he reluctantly tells Mink everything.

When he finishes, a derisive snort diverts Koujaku’s attention onto Mink. “What? You got something to say?”

A smirk wraps around his cigarette. “You stalked that lunatic?”

“I’m not a stalker,” Koujaku growls. “How many times do I have to say that?”

“You say you followed him everywhere? From a distance?”

"Well, yeah, so he wouldn't see me."

“What did you do when he looked your way?”

“… I might’ve hid.”

Mink’s eyebrows furrow. He taps his cigarette above his ashtray. "Do you know the definition of stalking?"

“It’s not stalking! It’s – it’s called attentive following.” Koujaku lowers his head; he scrubs his hand over his face. Jeez, that was stupid. Mink’s stupid. He’s stupid.

“Is that what stalkers are calling it these days?”

“Look, can you tell me what’s going on with Noiz or not?” he snaps. “Do you even _know_ what’s going on?”

Shrill whistling from the kettle answers Koujaku.

Mink shuts off the stove, gets two cups out, and pours them some tea. He places a cup in front of Koujaku and reclaims his seat. Mink doesn’t wait for the tea to cool; he lifts the cup to his lips, and sips at it quietly. The bastard might as well lift his damn pinky up and fog up his damn monocle and shit on his top hat – chip, chip, cheerio – what an asshole.

“You _do_ know something.”

Mink lowers the cup. “I do,” he confirms calmly. “But I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me?” Koujaku sneers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” _Great comeback, Koujaku, that’ll get him to talk._

“It means what it means. Now drink your tea.”

“I don’t want tea! I want to know what’s going on!” Koujaku slams his hand on the table. The attack has no effect on Mink. “If you’re keeping something from me, I have the right to know, especially if it’s about me.”

“You would be a bad person to tell secrets to.”

“I’m an excellent secret keeper! I’ve never once broken a pinky swear and – that’s not the point! Mink, tell me!”

Mink’s eyes narrows into slits. "I was sworn to secrecy," he rumbles sternly. “Unlike you, I am capable of keeping secrets.”

“Why did I come here? You’re useless,” Grumbling, Koujaku drinks some of Mink’s stupid tea. He glares at the cup and then at Mink. “Damn it. This is fucking good.”

Chuckling, Mink brushes his fingers through his gross dreads. “Do you want to bring some back with you?”

“No, I don’t! It’s not _that_ good!”

Koujaku stands, the crappy chair topples behind him, clattering loudly. Good, that’d make for a dramatic exit. He storms outside, kicking at nothing in his socks, and then stumbles into a puddle.

“Fucking fuck,” Koujaku swears furiously.

He would’ve left his shoes behind if they weren’t his favorite pair and had cost him over fifty dollars. Pissed beyond belief, Koujaku twists the doorknob and – of course – it’s _locked_. He bangs on the door, grinding his teeth and cursing everyone, especially Noiz. This is his fault. If he ate lunch with him this wouldn’t have happened. If he stopped being a little weird shit he could’ve lived life normally.

Apparently, it never occurred to Koujaku that he hadn’t thought to curse ever meeting the brat. Mink’s door opens and Koujaku charges forward, he’d go in and grab his shoes and fucking leave, but he collides into a solid wall (or what Mink calls his chest) and his plan is ruined.

“What do I owe this visit, Red?” Mink drawls dryly.

It’s ridiculously difficult to shove past Mink. Koujaku stops before he embarrasses himself further. The amused quirk on Mink’s lip pisses him off, Mink’s stupid place pisses him off, the dumb pink bird pisses him off, _Noiz_ pisses him off. Fuck. Koujaku peels off his socks, shoves his feet into his shoes, and goes back outside. Mink has a box of what he presumes to be tea in his hand.

Koujaku begrudgingly takes it. The tea wasn’t that bad. He bares his teeth, growling over his shoulder. “What incense was that?”

“I’ll have Noiz bring you some on his next visit.”

He shouldn’t have come here.

* * *

Why the hell did the brat go to a bakery?

It’s some kind of upscale bakery in a whole other part of town. The bakery was in a different league from the _Cappuccino Princess._ Aoba’s baking left much to be desired. He hadn’t thought wisely when he willingly volunteered to be his taste tester. Thankfully, Tae corrects Aoba’s mistakes, which is a blessing for Koujaku’s stomach.

Assortments of intricately decorated desserts are displayed in the window. Everything looks delicious but this type of deliciousness probably came at quite a cost. A tall, extravagant wedding cake is on a table, the cake topper is of a bride and groom locked in a loving kiss. Its large size is one of many factors on why it easily overshadows the smaller cakes around it.

 _What am I doing? I shouldn’t be admiring cakes._ Koujaku glares at Noiz. _What’s that piece of shit doing?_

The brat’s chatting with a pink haired girl. He steps over to the wedding cake he was gawking at, scrutinizes it with a pinched brow, and says something to the girl. She jots something down on her clipboard, bobbing her head in agreement. Noiz cups his chin, looking the cake over, before he shrugs and looks another table.

He stays in the bakery for too long, almost an hour, but steps out looking extremely satisfied about something. Noiz glances right where he’s crouched, without thinking he hides, practically throwing himself against the brick wall. Counting the fleeting seconds in his head, Koujaku peeks over and sees that he’s in the clear. Phew, that was a close one.

Koujaku’s on the move, catching up to the brat, but keeps a safe distance between them. _Oh, shit_ , he groans, ducking in time as Noiz turns his head. _I’m stalking him… again. Fuck._ Following Noiz the rest of the way, Koujaku begins to recognize the streets and the turns. It’s a shortcut, he realizes, to his place. Koujaku’s eyes broaden as horror looms over him. He should be home right now. At this hour, he’s finished working, closed up the salon, and is already at home.

His phone buzzes.

Koujaku pats his phone in his jacket, he digs into his pocket, and it slips from his fingers. It lands harshly onto the pavement. Equipped with a cracked screen, Koujaku looks at his unread message.

 ** _Brat_** sent _: wats 4 diner?_

He hasn’t been over in days and he expects dinner? Koujaku sneaks past Noiz, darts down a shady dark alley, and goes into the side window. His doorbell is ringing off the hook, Koujaku sprints to the door. His clammy fingers slip on the doorknob and the door slams open with a shattering bang.

“About time you –” Noiz takes in Koujaku’s haggard appearance. “Huh,” is all he says. That’s worse than not saying a stupid as fuck retort.

“Shut up,” he wheezes, grasping onto his side. Jeez, he used to run all the time in high school. He was on the track team and was placed second in races. He hadn’t even run a mile and he was _this_ exhausted? A cigarette would’ve helped calm him down . . . if he’d remembered to buy more when he wasn’t stalking some blond brat. “Just get the fuck inside.”

Koujaku swipes his forehead, wiping away sweat and fixes his hair. He’s wobbly on his legs and his foot catches on air and he’s about to crash onto the hardwood floor. Looping an arm around his chest, Noiz rights him on his feet, and his face smashes into the crook of his neck. The brat’s scent whooshes into his nostrils. He reeks of cologne, probably from that fancy looking bottle of a German brand he can’t pronounce, and bread. Koujaku figures he would’ve smelt of the various baked good in the bakery. But, no, his clothes are covered in the smell of freshly baked bread.

“You smell like bread,” Koujaku mumbles against his skin. “Smells good.”

He gets off of Noiz, because he didn’t need to lean on some nineteen-year-old for support.

“Aoba actually made something decent,” Noiz says. “I would’ve brought you some back but they sold out pretty fast.”

“Pity,” Koujaku says. “I would’ve liked to try some.”

“It wasn’t _that_ good. It was probably a fluke,” Noiz looks over to the kitchen. He sniffs the air like a dog and wrinkles his nose. “You’re not making dinner?”

“I’ll make whatever you want if you tell me what’s going on,” is what he wants to scream.

Instead, a phony grin spreads over his lips and what he says is: “I was just about to start making something. You up for some beef stew?”

“Sounds good,” Noiz says. “Tell me when dinner’s ready.” with that, he embarks for the bedroom.

“I don’t think so,” Koujaku growls, catching Noiz by his collar. “You can cut the vegetables.”

“But you always complain when I cut the vegetables.”

“Because you suck at it.”

“Then why are you asking for my help?”

“Just cut the damn vegetables.”

The vegetable for the stew is cut into uneven chunks but the stew turns out fine. He has more than enough chances to ask, but Koujaku’s sure Noiz will tell him. He’ll definitely say something about why everyone’s being weird. The brat doesn’t say shit. So, Koujaku does the hard work and when he’s about to demand information, Noiz pinches his ass and somehow that leads to dragging his stupid ass to his room and clothes getting ripped off.

Nothing gets asked.  

* * *

With how Noiz’s been behaving lately, he should’ve expected he’d be gone in the morning. Just to make sure Noiz actually left, Koujaku searches the house and confirms that Noiz is, in fact, gone.

Damn it, damn it. What’s going on?

He hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, he doesn’t think he has. Sure, he and the brat had their shares of ups and downs, but who doesn’t? Koujaku bites his thumbnail, pacing into his kitchen and then out into the living room. After days of not spending the night anymore, Noiz _came_ back just to leave again.

Everything’s fine. Or, somehow, things have changed and he hasn’t noticed and things were suddenly not fine?

The doorbell rings. Immediately, Koujaku’s first thought is that it’s Noiz. He’s back. The brat would explain everything and then he could go back to a normal, stress less life.

Waiting on his doorstep is not Noiz but a small mountain of gifts piling up. Koujaku looks out, glancing at the streets to find them empty, unable to find who had left behind gifts. Picking out a random box, Koujaku opens the card attached to the ribbon.

_Happy birthday, Koujaku!_

Thanks to all his not worrying over Noiz, he’s completely forgotten about his own birthday coming up.

How does that even happen?

There was a time in Koujaku’s life, before dealing with brats and pierced dicks, when he hadn’t thought his life was falling apart before his very eyes.

What has the brat done to him?

Koujaku gets all the presents inside. He leaves them in the entryway and drops onto the side Noiz preferred to sleep on in his bed. His ashtray was left on this side, since it was closer to the window. Koujaku grabs the tray, sadly getting a cigarette ready and sees a sticky note that wasn’t there before last night.

He instantly recognizes Noiz’s handwriting.

_Go to the shop._

* * *

The _Cappuccino Princess_ is deserted. All the lights are off, but as Koujaku presses against the glass, cupping his hands over the sides of his face, he spots mugs left on the tables and the chairs aren’t pushed under the tables. There’s no sign of any life anywhere. It’s nowhere close to closing time, they should be open. Noiz should be on his shift right now. He knows this.

Koujaku pulls the door handle, he knows it won’t move, except it’s unlocked and opens with little to no resistance. What were they thinking? He thought Sei would be more responsible with his business. Leaving the door unlocked like that, so anyone could just waltz in – they were practically asking to be robbed. Whatever the reason to abandon the café must’ve been extremely important for them to just up and leave.

He places the task upon himself to lock up. The keys should be in Sei’s office. If not, hopefully they’re some spares hidden within the establishment somewhere. Koujaku ventures into the shop, despite the morning light outside; the _Cappuccino Princess_ is shrouded in darkness. The café’s bright and welcoming décor is haunting. What was once cheerful and colorful dancing pastries have warped into menacing baked creatures, the vibrant colored walls are dim and daunting. The formerly cheerful chime casts an eerie hum that sends shivers down his spine.

Whipping out his phone, Koujaku uses a flashlight app to light himself an artificially lit path. How did he suddenly become a protagonist in a horror game? A thought like that wouldn’t normally come to mind, but Noiz played plenty of scary shit, which was fine. What was _not_ fine was the brat mocking him, calling him chicken, whenever he refused to watch him play. Noiz would deliberately keep getting up just so he could shove the controller towards him. He’d come back at the same time Koujaku was about to hurl the controller at the wall. He fucking hates video games.

Koujaku shines his light onto Sei’s office. He twists the knob. “Of course, it’s locked.”

Maybe the extra keys were kept at the front. Koujaku altered his course, spinning on his heels to walk back where he started – but the kitchen was left open. In fact, the kitchen was the _only_ room wasn’t closed in the corridor. Koujaku shuts off his light, he presses his ear to the door, careful to not press too much of his weight onto it and listens. There’s muffled voices, there had to be at least _six_ or so people, and rustling inside.

Was the shop already getting robbed? Koujaku chewed his lip. Well, he _has_ had his share of fist fights but going against such a large group – it doesn’t matter. He could handle the risk. Beating up some petty thieves wasn’t how he wanted to spend his birthday, but he couldn’t let the café get robbed. Squeezing his phone, Koujaku pushes the door open, and gets ready to –

" _Surprise!_ "

Koujaku just about stabs Clear in the side with his phone. He recoils, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates, and frantically glances around the kitchen. “Surprise?”

Clear grins; unfazed that he’d almost been impaled by Koujaku’s phone. “Surprise, Koujaku!” he cheers. “Did we scare you?”

“That’s what you typically yell for a surprise party,” Aoba says. “Since it’s, well, your birthday.”

“That’s right,” Koujaku says. “It’s my birthday.”

Aoba’s eyebrows furrow. “Don’t tell me you forgot your birthday, Hippo.”

“Who would forget their own birthday?” Koujaku laughs boastfully. It sounds so painfully awkward to his ears, but his uneasy laughter drags on a few seconds longer than he’d like. “Was this why you guys were acting so weird?”

“We didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Sei says.

“And _you_ knew about this?” Koujaku asks, pointing a finger at Mink.

At Koujaku’s accusation, Mink simply shrugs.

The kitchen has been specifically decorated for said surprise party. There’s a banner tapped onto the wall, reading ‘Happy Birthday, Koujaku!’, it’s decked with flowers and birds. Balloons are everything, scattered across the ceiling or covering the floor. Confetti is _everywhere_ , Koujaku’s glad he won’t have to stick around to clean everything up.

For party guests, the _Cappuccino Princess_ staff or as Aoba affectionately dubbed them his extended family. Mizuki was here. Ren was barking happily, circling around everyone’s feet.

“Wait, we’re missing someone,” Koujaku says. “Where’s… Noiz?”

Aoba exchanges a glance with Sei. He blows into a party blower, Koujaku cringes at the shrill blare of sound. “I made cake!”

“Granny and I helped him make it,” Sei says. “I assure you, it’s safe for human consumption.”

“Sei!” Aoba gives the party blower another blow.

Even without the brat, Koujaku’s party carries on. He’s overwhelmed by it all. No one’s bothered to do something like this for him. A surprise party is simple but being surrounded by such amazing friends is just wonderful. The only thing that could make this better was if _everyone_ was here. Koujaku swallows down a Jell-O shot, courtesy of Mizuki, and nosily smacks his lips.  

He’s sure the brat had better things to do than celebrate his birthday with him. Koujaku pinches the bridge of his nose, before he takes two more shots. He takes it easy on the alcohol, it wouldn’t do to get wasted – he speaks with everyone. Or at least makes an effort to talk. Mink lifts an eyebrow at him and that’s enough for Koujaku to stay away. He couldn’t stand that bastard, probably thinks he’s so cool staying in the corner by himself.

Sei’s right. The cake is good. He has two slices and compliments Aoba heavily until Aoba can’t stand to hear anymore phrase. Koujaku’s presents were kept in a tub where they put dishes. He rips into Aoba’s first (it’s his favorite wine), then Mizuki’s (a sake cup with floral designs painted on), Clear’s (a hand knitted red scarf), and lastly Mink’s (a sample pack of herbal teas). From Sei, there’s an envelope (it’s a gift card for the _Cappuccino Princess._ Sei hadn’t found the time to buy a gift.).

The party is over at a reasonable hour. Sei has to get back to work and Aoba has to watch over him (but he’ll more than lucky pay more attention to Ren). Mink and Clear say their goodbyes. Clear does most of the talking, while all Koujaku gets from Mink is a noncommittal grunt, which Koujaku finds offensive. Koujaku leaves with Mizuki.

“That was a great party, huh?” Mizuki says, his arms crossed behind his head.

“It was… nice.”

“You’re so lucky to have such nice friends.”

“I am,” Koujaku agrees.

Mizuki grins and says nothing else.

Koujaku returns the grin, but without the party as a distraction, he thinks about the shithead that hadn’t turned up and his lips purse. “Mizuki.”

“What’s up?”

“What were you talking to Noiz about?”

“How’d you know I talked to Noiz?” Mizuki asks.

“I,” Koujaku sighs. “I saw you guys.”

“You _saw_ us?” Mizuki echoes blankly. “Weird. I didn’t see you. Where were you?”

“I was, uh, you know, nearby.”

“Were you stalking the kid or something?”

Koujaku bristles, his eye twitches and he reaches a hand out towards his friend. “I wasn’t –”

Mizuki laughs, slapping his hand away, and grinning wide and bright. “Jeez, it was a joke,” he says. “If you were at the bar, why didn’t you come over and say hi?”

“Because I,” Koujaku shoots Mizuki a glare. “Don’t change the subject!”

“It wasn’t anything important. Just a little talk.”

“When did you guys start talking?”

“Hey, I’m not making a move on your territory,” Mizuki says. “There’s no need to get possessive, Koujaku.”

Heat seeps high into Koujaku’s cheeks. “It's not not like that, okay?” he sighs and glares off to the side. “Guess Aoba’s been rubbing off on you, now you’re spouting nonsense.”

“You’re really good at deflecting.”

Letting out a bark of laughter, Koujaku claps Mizuki’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Mizuki.”

“Next time you’re at the bar, just say ‘hi’, don’t be a creeper.”

The two depart, splitting off in different directions. Koujaku acts rationally about Noiz’s disappearance by checking all the places Noiz would be, putting his not stalking skills to good use. He’s not at the arcade, at the college campus, at the bakery, or at any clothing stores – Noiz isn’t anywhere. He hasn’t gotten into any fights lately, claiming he didn’t want another unneeded trip to the hospital. Ignoring the last few days, Noiz has been acting like an adult.

He’s kind of hurt.

No, he’s upset that the brat wasn’t there to celebrate with the others. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about his birthday to him. It wasn’t a very important subject to say anything. Does he have the right to be upset?

But if everyone was planning a party for him, wouldn’t Noiz know about it? That had to be the reason why he was being so . . . standoffish.

Koujaku has no choice but to head home. He couldn’t find him. Maybe he didn’t even want to be found. Birthday or not, it’s a work day tomorrow, and spending the rest of his birthday looking for Noiz isn’t what he wanted.

Whatever.

They weren’t together. Doing something as sappy or lame as spending his birthday together, just the two of them . . . it just isn’t something they would do. They haven’t even gone on an actual date. Not that he wanted to go on a date, because _couples_ did things like that and though they were together, they weren’t _together_.

Whatever.

The whole thing is stupid.

Noiz is stupid.

He’s stupid.

_What am I getting upset for?_

Digging into his pocket for his keys, Koujaku unlocks the door – he has a tub of ice cream in his freezer. It’s one of Noiz’s favorite flavors, it’s so damn sugary that he can barely handle a bite, but he’s not about to turn around and buy another tub. Sighing, Koujaku pushes the door. Before he steps inside, Koujaku can tell something isn’t right. In the entryway sat a red candle. Its small light barely cast a glow in the dark. A path of candles starting from the front door stretches out into the kitchen.

“What the –” quickly, Koujaku removes his shoes, careful to not light anything on fire, and proceeds to walk alongside the candles. “Brat?” he calls out tentatively. “What the hell is going on?”

Noiz emerges out of the shadows, he’s in a dark gray three piece suit, and his hair, for once, is combed. Narrowed green eyes analyze Koujaku, giving him a once over. Noiz’s expression remains blank as he flings something at him. Koujaku catches it, you wouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out he was thrown a suit. You couldn’t put much in a garment bag.

"Get dressed."

"Wait –"

"Hurry up. The food’s getting cold."

“Uh, right,” Koujaku sputters dumbly, bumbling over to his room. It isn't until Koujaku's undressing that he realizes that this isn't okay. Noiz _left_ and he barges in his house (never mind that he owned a copy of his key), demands he gets dressed, and expect him to act like how he's been acting lately is perfectly okay.

His nails dig into the flesh of his palm. Every fiber of his being tells him to storm out and confront him. Noiz's sketchy behavior had to stop. It's his birthday and, damn it, he isn't going to let the brat ruin it any more than he already has. He shouldn’t be in here changing into whatever Noiz threw at him.

What _did_ Noiz throw at him?

Koujaku’s curiosity outweighs his annoyance. He rolls the zipper down the bag, opens it, and takes a good look before he chucks it back at Noiz. Inside, there’s a red suit. Koujaku’s brain insists on reminding him that Noiz was looking at _suits_. The brat had gone to multiple clothes store and spent most of the time looking at suits.

“Tch,” Koujaku clicks his tongue, glaring at the suit in disdain. “He probably got the measurements wrong.”

To prove that he’s right, he puts everything on and it was tailored to his size. The jacket wasn’t too tight. The pants weren’t too long or short. It was a perfect fit. Koujaku sails down to the kitchen, he’s ready to cause a shit storm – Noiz is already at the table, he’s staring down at his lap.

Standing in the kitchen, Koujaku can see what Noiz has done. There are pots and pans stacked in the sink, the counter is covered in scraps and small puddles, and there’s a stain on the floor. What shocks him the most is that Noiz was telling the truth. There _is_ food on the table, food that is capable of getting cold.

Granted, the dish isn’t anything special. It’s pasta. But the candles and the glass of wine on Koujaku’s side gives him the impression that this _is_ supposed to be special. He’s hit with a feeling of déjà vu – hadn’t he done the same thing? He knew what he was planning. What was the brat doing?

“Are you going to sit down?” Noiz mutters. “Or are you waiting until your hip breaks?” he kicks the chair forward, eying him expectantly.

Koujaku takes a seat. He takes a closer look at his plate. The food looks . . . edible. Noiz taps his finger on the table. The corner of his mouth twitches, but he refrains from making any retorts, instead increasing the velocity of his taps. He hasn’t touched his plate or the glass of wine. Picking up his fork, he twirls the utensil into the noodles and takes the mouthful. As he’s chewing, Noiz stares at him, his lips pressing to a thin line.

“It’s –”

“I made it,” Noiz interrupts swiftly. “I know its shit.”

“… You cooked?” once again, Koujaku looks over his kitchen. Well, obviously Noiz cooked, he would never leave his kitchen in this state. He took pride in having a well-kempt home. “I’m surprised the house is still standing,” he jokes, flashing a grin.

Noiz glances off to the side. He presses his fingertip down on the fork, letting the handle hover in the air for a second, and then raised his finger high enough to have it lightly hit the tabletop. “I don’t know why I bothered,” he says. “It took me forever to get a decent taste but it’s still shit. My apartment is a fucking mess.”

He hasn’t been staying over lately. Could the reason be because he was practicing to cook this for him?

Koujaku licks his lips. Remnants of sauce tickle his taste buds. It’s a little bland and the noodles are overcooked, but the brat tried for him. He brings another forkful to his mouth.

“Don’t eat anymore,” Noiz reaches over the table to take away his plate.

“It’s not bad,” Koujaku says, keeping the plate out of Noiz’s reach. “Before you butted in, I was going to say its fine. It tastes fine.”

Noiz slumps back into his seat. His jaw clenches. “Tch.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’m not. I don’t care,” Noiz grumbles. “I’m just telling you so you can’t complain.”

Koujaku rolls his eyes. “Right,” he shoves another mouthful into his mouth and exaggeratedly chews. “I take it back. This _is_ shit.”

Scoffing, Noiz finally digs in and wolfs down what’s on his plate. The rigidness in his shoulders loosens and his posture slackens to the horrible slouch that makes Koujaku’s back ache. He’s relaxed, and unbuttons his suit enough that the stain on Noiz’s formerly nice dress shirt can’t be hard to miss.

“You didn’t cook in those clothes did you?”

His fork is still tucked between Noiz’s lips. “Yeah,” he mumbles around it. “So?”

“That stain…”

Noiz glances at his shirt. “It’ll wash right out.”

“You’re such a dumbass.”

After dinner, Noiz presents Koujaku with a cake. It looks amazing, way more detailed than Aoba’s cake. In fact, the cake looked like something you’d get from that bakery Noiz went to. Instead of the icing writing the traditional ‘Happy Birthday!’, written in bright red icing is: ‘You’re not dead yet!’. It’s the exact type of cake Koujaku would think Noiz would get for him.

The slices Noiz cut are all uneven. The brat gives himself the bigger pieces, while handing Koujaku slivers. Noiz spears himself giant pieces, stuffing his face, until his cheeks bulge with cake. He looks like a little kid at his first birthday party. Frosting covers his lips, he licks most of it away, but some of it stays at the corner of his mouth.

Koujaku swipes it off with his tongue.

Noiz grabs his chin. “Are you ready for dessert?”

“We just had dessert.”

“It’s a different type.”

“How?”

“It involves a special kind of meat.”

“So, we’re basically having dinner again?"

Noiz shoves Koujaku back. “How fucking dense are you?” he remarks. “We’re gonna fuck.”

* * *

Each time a dish bangs, Koujaku flinches but stays seated on his bed. Noiz was firm on telling him that he’d clean up everything, promising him that the kitchen would be spotless and undamaged. Something breaks, he’s _sure_ of it, but when he charges down the hall, Noiz sprays him with water and chases him back into his room.

His suit is ruined, soaked to his body. For some reason, he’s reveling in guilt – the suit was expensive. He didn’t have to check the price tag to confirm that. Even if Noiz is apparently rolling in dough, _he_ treated his belongings kindly.

Koujaku hangs his jacket in the bathroom, carefully placing it over the towel rack, and throws on his bathrobe. When he’s back in his room, Noiz is leaning against the door. Koujaku stands awkwardly, because Noiz is just standing there with his hands behind his back, being suspicious. What’s he doing? Does he have a water gun or something?

Frowning tightly, Noiz glances at the bed, signaling for Koujaku to sit. Koujaku does so, reflexively setting his jaw – whatever the brat has, hopefully he would do it fast. Thinning his lips, Noiz reveals what he’s has behind him. It’s nothing bad. It’s nothing good. He can’t tell what it is because it’s in a box.

“This is the part where you, I don’t know, take the gift.”

Koujaku narrows his eyes on Noiz. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s this thing where on birthdays, the idiot born receives gifts.”

Distrustful of this so called gift, Koujaku glares at the box. _There’s always a catch._

"There's no catch, you paranoid fuck."

With his tongue ring poking out, Noiz tosses the box next to him. He sheds off his jacket, drops it over the gift, and unbuttons his shirt. While Noiz is getting undressed, Koujaku doesn’t ogle the brat’s bare skin. He keeps his eyes on the gift, lest it leap on him and attack. There wasn’t anything to trust about this gift. That shiny giftwrap was a fucking trap. Absolutely nothing good could come from opening Noiz’s gift.

Koujaku diverts his attention back onto Noiz. He sees him shrugging into one of Koujaku’s shirts. Like all his clothes, it’s way too big on him. More often than not, Koujaku finds his clothes reeking of the brat. He loathes whenever he catches himself sniffing his clothes whenever Noiz isn’t around.

Noiz crashes on top of the bed, kicking his suit onto the floor, and presses his face into Koujaku’s pillows.

“Did you have a hard day at work?” Koujaku asks, the contents of the gift the last thing on his mind.

“Serving coffee to hipsters takes a lot out of you,” Noiz answers. “They always have to make their drinks unique or some shit.”

“You smell that?”

“What?” Noiz sniffs. His nose wrinkles like a rabbit. “Did you fart or something?”

“Something’s burning,” Koujaku snarls. “From your pants being on fire.”

“I’m not wearing any pants.”

“Whatever! You’re fucking lying!” Koujaku fumes, slamming a fist onto the mattress. He does it again for good measure. “You weren’t at work today.”

“I was tired.”

“Tired from what?”

“Planning a surprise party for an old pervert,” Noiz says, shrugging. “It’s really exhausting.”

“… You did all that?”

“Well, most of it,” Noiz says. “Everyone _had_ to help. I mentioned it to them once and they wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“And you didn’t even show up for it.”

“It was a loser fest anyway.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Koujaku says. “I got two cakes out of it.”

“Fat ass.”

“ _You_ ate most of the other cake.”

“What’s your point?”

Koujaku chews his bottom lip. “Then what was dinner about?” he counters calmly. “The candles, the wine, you making dinner, the suit, and the cake –”

“Did you enjoy following me around?"

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like talking anymore.

The bottom of Noiz’s foot slaps onto his back and jostles Koujaku forward until his stomach is pressing against his thighs. "You're a pretty shitty stalker. I could hear your loud ass footsteps and your heavy breathing. You still wore a shitty disguise. You suck at hiding. You suck at everything."

"I'm not a stalker. I was just, I was –"

“Stalking me?"

"It wasn't stalking," Koujaku denies vehemently. "It was --"

"Attentive following?"

“Y-You didn’t answer my question,” he sputters quickly.

Hopefully, the brat will latch onto that and they can talk about something else.

"You did say you would be my stalker.”

Or not.

"I never said that."

"Yeah, you did," he says. "Did you already forget? Your dumb mouth told me you would be my stalker."

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Except that you did.”

He climbs over Noiz, snaps his hands around his wrists, and roughly pins them above his head. "Hearing you bitch in my bed is not how I want to end my birthday."

Noiz’s eyes widen minutely. He slithers out of Koujaku’s grasp and pushes him off to sit up. "You're right,” he says. “You haven’t opened the present I gave you yet."

"If it's some stupid sex toy, I'm going to –"  

“Just shut up and open it already.”

The brat nudges the box against his chest. There was no avoiding it. This was happening. He’s going to open it. He lightly tugs the cover up, trying to go about it as slow as possible. Hissing a sigh through his teeth, Noiz violently tears it off and, in response, Koujaku clenches his eyes shut. Noiz smacks the back of his head, until he finally opens his eyes.

There are no sex toys, nothing pops out to get him – it isn’t anything extravagant. There’s a black leather case for his cigarettes, a plain cooking apron, a box of tea, and incense. Koujaku bites his lip, but fails to keep a grin spreading over his lips.

“I kept track of all the shit you kept bitching about,” Noiz says. “Now you can shut up.”

“This is… really thoughtful of you. Thanks.”

“Yeah, totally thoughtful, that’s me,” Noiz says, nodding. “Wanna fuck?”

“And that moment didn’t last long.”

“If you suck my dick I’ll suck yours.”

“You still didn’t answer me, brat,” Koujaku says. “Why did you do all this?”

“I just felt like doing it,” Noiz says. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“I guess not.”

“Happy birthday, old man.”

Koujaku laughs. “Thanks, Noiz.”

It’s probably the best birthday he’s ever had.

“Mink says ‘hi’ by the way.” Noiz says. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

Or it was.

“You can ask Mink once he finds your body.”

“Don’t think that’s a kink I can get behind,” Noiz says. “Staking’s one thing but –”

“I wasn’t stalking you. It’s –”

“Right, right,” Noiz says. “It’s called attentive following. I forgot.”

“Jeez, do you and that gorilla gossip while you’re sucking each other’s dicks?”

“That usually only happens when we talk about you.”

The clock on his nightstand reads well past midnight when they quit bickering to take a breather.

“No birthday sex,” the brat sounds _way_ too disappointed about that. However, he’s quick to think of a solution. “There’s always post birthday sex.”

So, there was sex.

And it was good.

And there may or may not have been some post-coital cuddling. But that bit of information is something Noiz will definitely be sure to keep from Aoba.

**Author's Note:**

> I can totally see Mink somehow becoming the guy who Noiz and Koujaku come over to complain to about each other. Mink's already used to Noiz random visits, but he doesn't know why or when Koujaku started doing the same thing. Poor Mink, he never asked for this bullshit.
> 
> Anyhoo, I also have a [tumblr!](http://remnantafterthought.tumblr.com/) So, you can come over and say 'hi'! If you want. Yeah.


End file.
